


The Trick

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Future, M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-01
Updated: 2008-02-01
Packaged: 2018-12-27 01:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12070530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: A ficlet set in Justin's apartment in the Village.





	The Trick

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes:

FanSee wrote it; Chering beta'd.

* * *

Justin Taylor had the first floor front apartment in the town house on a charming little street in the Village. The trick buzzed for admission and waited to be buzzed in, but the guy who must be Justin came out into the front hall and opened the door himself. He turned out to be blond, slender, young, and dressed in a white, terry robe. So why was he paying for sex? The trick gave a mental shrug and decided not to worry about it. Most of the time the reason a client had to pay was obvious. Occasionally, like now…who knew?

The trick followed his client into a small, but surprisingly cozy, efficiency apartment. Before the house was broken up into apartments, this room must have been the living room/dining room. A large window faced the street. The house faced west, so the trick guessed that the light poured in through the window most of the day. An easel was set up in front of the window, surrounded by all the clutter of a working artist, taking up most of the space in the former living room.

A Pullman kitchen ran down one side of the room, and a recliner and hassock, a small table, and a reading lamp had been squeezed in opposite the front door. Beyond the kitchen and the recliner area was a single step up to what once was the dining room. The trick saw that it was almost completely filled by a king-sized mattress, lying on the floor. A bright yellow spread covered the mattress, and a dozen or so multi-colored pillows were piled at one end. Clearly having the mattress on the floor was an intentional fashion statement, not just lack of the funds to buy a frame.

The client… _Mr. Taylor?…Justin?_ …had been quite specific in his requirements. The trick was here because he was over six feet tall with brown hair and brown eyes, and he was wearing what he’d been told to wear. The trick gestured to himself and said, “O.K.?”

Justin… _I’m going to think of him as Justin…he’s too young to be Mr. Taylor_ …looked the trick up and down, taking in his Etonics, his Lucky Brand jeans, and his tight-fitting black tee, and sighed. “Over there,” he said, waving at the bed.

The trick didn’t move. “$300,” he said.

Another sigh, and Justin turned back to the kitchen, opened a drawer, and pulled out a fat envelope. The trick counted the money quickly: one $100, one $50, seven $20s, and a $10. He shoved it all in his pocket and pulled his shirt over his head. As soon as the shirt was off, he looked at his client. At this point, when a client first saw his lean, sleek torso, the trick was used to seeing interest, anticipation, and lust on the client’s face, but this man just looked impatient. Another mental shrug, and the trick finished stripping.

Justin had shrugged off his robe and was now naked and, despite his apparent indifference, aroused. Well, the trick thought, he isn’t buying because he can’t get it up. Let’s see if he can stay like that long enough to make the evening interesting.

Justin gestured to the bed again, and the trick stepped up into the sleeping area and lay down in one graceful, uninterrupted movement. He rolled onto his side and propped his head up with one hand. “Roll over,” Justin said.

As soon as the trick had rolled onto his stomach, he felt the mattress give a little, and then Justin was pushing his legs apart. _Mr. Taylor isn’t big on foreplay, I’m thinking._ The trick buried his head in his arms and waited.

He felt Justin reaching across him and then the client said, “Up. Get your ass up.” The trick obeyed, then peered down his own torso to watch Justin shove two pillows under his hips. When he sank down into them, they proved to be fairly firm and covered in a soft material that felt good against his distended cock. He humped them once or twice before a sharp slap on his ass told him to stop.

Next he felt the cold of the lube running down his crack and then two fingers were in his asshole, stretching him vigorously. There was the sound of a condom packet ripping, a pause, then a strong hand gripped his hip while the other hand pulled one butt cheek back. He felt the man’s cock at his asshole, and he pushed back against it. There was a long moment of painful stretching…the trick knew he was too tight…and then the client was fully in. The trick raised his hips a little and moved his hand between his body and the pillow so that he could jerk off.

Justin gave him only a moment’s respite, and then he was moving, his fingers digging into the trick’s hips, hard enough to bruise, the trick thought. The trick groaned and pushed back, pulling his own dick in rhythm with Justin’s thrusts. His body was contracting, all his consciousness centered in his dick, and then it was happening, come spurting out, trapped between his body and the pillow. His spasms seemed to set Justin off, and the trick felt him come, his semen filling the condom. Neither man moved for a second, then Justin pulled out slowly and tied off the condom.

“You know,” Brian said, “you just set a precedent. It’s going to cost you $300 every time you want to top….”

“The fuck it will! That was just part of the game.”

Brian smiled and continued, “Adjusted for inflation, of course.”


End file.
